


Dearest Dominic

by living_that_fandom_life



Category: Holby City
Genre: Comfort, Confessions, Cute, Developing Relationship, Discovery, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gay, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Other, Sad, Secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-04-23 10:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14330697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/living_that_fandom_life/pseuds/living_that_fandom_life
Summary: Lofty is off looking after Sheilagh for a couple of weeks since her stroke, and in the mean time, leaves Dominic a little something in his locker to keep him occupied in his absence. However, will this absence leave the couple drifting apart or closer together?





	1. Distractions

*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*

Urgh! I am so not a morning person...at all!

I reach to turn off my alarm, which proves to be quite the struggle with a dead arm, and attempt to read my clock, again made difficult by the fact that I’m still half asleep. Sleep deprivation aside, I look at my clock which says 06:00, leaving me with around an hour and a half before I need to be in work prepared for hand over. Usually I’m quite good at getting myself out of bed after my alarm sounds, but the thought of Lofty being off work periodically for over a month certainly does nothing to motivate me. I’m aware that we may bump into each other on the odd occasion, but the inconsistency hurts a little. I know it’s selfish to want him to be around the ward at the same time as me, especially since he’s caring for his nan, but my day will inevitably go slower, and be less enjoyable, with Sacha mollycoddling me at every opportunity. Urgh! I know he’s only looking out for me, and after Isaac, I understand his want to protect me, but it’s Lofty for goodness sake. We all know that he doesn’t have a single malicious bone in his body. I mean, he couldn’t hurt a fly...literally...he’d more than likely miss if he tried to squish it. That or he’d trip himself up in the process or something.

My thoughts, admittedly mostly being those of spiralling self pity, are interrupted by my phone buzzing. I reach over to see that a message from Lofty had come through. Knowing that it was him made my heart both flutter and break; whilst I’m once again made aware of Lofty’s warmth and kindness, I’m also now properly realising that I won’t be seeing the man I love in our place of work for a substantial amount of time. His contagious laugh, goofy smile, and his sometimes baffling clumsiness, brings so much joy to my day...that was a bit cliché...but true all the same...makes me weak at the knees in fact! He really is just perfect! Jeez, anyone would think he’s left the country considering how I’m dealing with all this! In reality I’m fully aware that I can still see him when I’m not on shift, after work for example, but it’s just not the same as his physical presence. Anyway, the message reads:

Morning! I hope work isn’t too much fun without me! I’ve left a little something in your locker for you to look at throughout the week. I suggest taking your time with it. Anyway, Granny’s being nosey so I’ll see you soon. Hope today goes okay. L xx

What did I ever do to deserve a man this perfect!? Although this ‘little something’ does have me ever so slightly...confused? Should I be worried? My thoughts start to trail to mine and Lofty’s relationship. I mean, it took us a while to give a proper go at things but as far as I’m aware, our relationship has been going great. Takeaway and Mary Berry dates, nothing fancy, relaxed and unpressured, almost refreshing. We’ve been going slow and steady, which is what we both wanted, mainly because we’re both aware that we have been hurt in the past, but with Lofty, I know that getting hurt is almost impossible. I know that I could never hurt Lofty, not intentionally anyway, not after what I’ve put him through in the past. So, yes, I’m getting slightly concerned. I mean, he could be trying to let me down lightly, in which case I appreciate the warning. But then again, with our relationship going seemingly well, where would all of these feelings have come from. With all this discombobulation, almost turning into frustration, I’m rather quick to tap out a reply, trying my hardest not to hint to any of my rising concern and related emotions, which is usually portrayed in the format of sarcasm. This aside, I type:

Morning! Work can never be fun without you! This little something sounds a bit cryptic though...anything I should be concerned about? Pass my best wishes to Sheilagh for me! I’ll try and pop round after work? If you’re lucky I may bring some cookies with me! D xxx

I don’t receive a reply as quickly as I had hoped, but I know Lofty’s busy. So I go through my morning as I do every other day; porridge with maple syrup for breakfast (why did no one ever tell me that porridge could be so much more than a gloopy slop that I was led to believe it was for the majority of my life?), a quick shower (humming all of my favourite show tunes in the process, admittedly terribly), brush my teeth (combing my hair in the process), get changed into the usual top and jeans combo, pick up my packed bag and leave for work at precisely 7 am. Despite my best efforts, I can’t help but get a little side-tracked thinking back to what Lofty’s message could mean as I’m walking to the hospital. I even try counting every black car that drives past, hoping that Lofty won’t pop into my head. Suffice to say, I quickly realise my plan is flawed; somehow my brain, perhaps predictably, makes a link with the cars to Lofty’s almost jet black curls. Cursed brain!

I try distracting myself once again, but this time seeing what pictures I can make out of the clouds. It works at first; I spot a dragon with a chest of gold, an elephant wearing a crown, and even a kitten on top of a giant ice cream. But, as these plans of mine usually go, it proves unsuccessful not long after they’ve started. It’s all because I begin to remember where I got this game from, more like who from. Lofty, unsurprisingly. 

We were walking to work one day and as we were walking, hand in hand, we ended up talking about the clouds. If I remember rightly, it was Lofty who spotted a puppy playing with a bone, whilst we were mid conversation about the Mary Berry episode we had watched the night before. Despite this entirely unrelated tangent, it was the first time that I had seen him truly relaxed when he was with me, so relaxed in fact he started talking about a shift he had when he worked down in the ED. He never talks about the ED, ended badly I was told, by an anonymous source of course…*cough cough* Sacha *cough cough*. Now before anyone says, he never went into details, so I don’t really know what happened, but because of this ‘bad ending’ I made the decision to not bring it up, and I have stuck to that promise ever since. Of course I’ve heard rumors, but thats all they are. Rumors that I have no business in believing, especially if it hurts Lofty. But on that morning, you would guess anything but a bad experience during Lofty’s time in the ED. He was so happy talking about the time that he managed to find a patient’s brother, who definitely struck a good chord with Lofty when they played the cloud game, reluctantly at first. He said that was one of the first times a person had trusted him. He never told me anything else after that. To me it seemed as if he felt he had shared too much already, or he may have felt some of the presumably bad memories coming back to him. Of course, I said nothing, smiled at him, squeezed his hand, and we continued our walk to work. I’m brought back to reality when a car (rudely I may add) beeped their horn as I walked past...neanderthal.

After two failed plans to distract myself from a certain Mr Chiltern, I admit defeat and allow myself to wallow. 

It’s not until I’m a 5 minute walk away (not that my walk was particularly long in the first place) from the hospital that my phone buzzes again. I pull my phone out from my denim jacket pocket and look at the message ID instantly. It was Lofty. My heart rate increases, as I hope to find out whether or not I should be worrying about the ‘little something’ in my locker. I open the text:

I hope not, but I guess we’ll see. Now these cookies sound like a luxury, what’s the catch? ;) You’re probably at work now so have a not too stressful shift. At least without me you don’t have my clumsiness to contend with! See you later...don’t forget the cookies! L xx

I smile at his unfaltering recognition of his unpredictable blundering, and stifle a small chuckle from the breath I realise I have been holding in all this time. My shoulders drop a little knowing that he isn’t upset or has second thoughts about us. He seems like...Lofty. The Lofty I know and adore. Maybe I really don’t have anything to worry about. With that thought in my head I finish my walk to work.


	2. Deliberation

I walk into the hospital, and go through all the somewhat monotonous security procedures as per usual and head off to Keller. As sad as it sounds, the lift trip was a little dull...just little old me tapping my thigh along to Beyoncé singing into my ears. As I do every morning, I exit the lift and head over to the locker room. With Lofty not here, Essie gone and Sacha in a meeting, the morning greetings are sparse, to say the least. I enter the room and head for my locker, a bit more reluctantly than usual, but I make it there nonetheless. I decide that getting changed into my scrubs is probably the most logical place to start. Quite why I have to rationalise my every move highlights just how nervous I’m becoming, a feeling that was unbeknownst to myself no more than 10 minutes ago. Lofty’s text seemed happy. Just calm down Dominic.

I realise that there is nothing more that I can possibly do to put off from seeing what Lofty’s left for me...I mean there are only so many times that I can put a hand through my hair whilst looking at myself in the mirror before someone bursts in and comments on how vain they think I’m being, which is of course far from the truth. I know that I have absolutely no reason to worry, but my brain just isn’t thinking straight. I take a long sigh and a deep breath, in an attempt to steady my slightly sporadic thoughts. I open my locker and see that sitting on top of my spare set of plum coloured scrubs and stethoscope is a letter neatly tri-folded with my name carefully written on the front in Lofty’s squiggly handwriting. I place my bag in my locker and attach my pager to the waistband of my trousers, and pick up the letter. Just as I’m about to open it, my pager goes off *beep! beep*. I sigh and place the letter in my pocket, heed my signal and head on over to hand over.

Once I’m briefed on all of the patients that have arrived overnight, the elective surgeries that are due to take place today and the patients that I’ll be overseeing, I leave, reaching into my pocket so that I can take a quick glance at Lofty’s handwriting. As I open the paper, I count. There are 3 pages of A4 in my hands, each side of the paper filled with ink. When and how did he ever have the time to write all of this? I’ll barely have the time to even read it uninterrupted. With that thought, I start to read and walk simultaneously. The beginning of the letter reads:

Dearest Dominic,

I don’t quite know why I’m writing this letter really, or what I’m wanting to achieve. All I know is that I trust you enough to know about the things I’m going to mention. Hopefully, they will help you to understand my past and some of my inner demons. Hopefully, it’ll help you understand me, Ben ‘Lofty’ Chiltern, as I am today. I don’t really know but I guess I’m writing just to get a few things off of my chest, let you in a bit more as you have with me, share some of my guilt and regrets, as well as some of my triumphs.

As if on cue, I am of course interrupted by an elderly gentleman calling out for a doctor, and me being the closest to him, I all but assume he’s talking to me specifically. I shove the letter back into my pocket, not caring to fold it back up neatly like it was left for me, mainly due to the frustration of being interrupted, and begin to make my way over. As I do so, the uncertainty of tone in the paragraph I’ve just read of Lofty’s letter makes me realise that this isn’t going to all be as light-hearted as his earlier text message led me to hope it would. This is going to be some of his deepest thoughts and feelings, and as his partner, I am both moved by the notion of him sharing this with me but also, perhaps rightfully, nervous. Saying that I’d dread to think of how he’s feeling at this moment in time. Petrified probably. I reach the patient, Mr. Jenkins, and begin as I do with every new patient I come across; “Good morning. I’m Doctor Copeland. What seems to be the problem?”

15 minutes later I’m finished with the gentleman. It was simple enough. All I needed to do was correct his vacuum dressing and he was all good to go. He was a kind enough man but this particular dressing was just more of a hindrance. Not to mention, if we weren’t short staffed on nurses, a nurse could have easily have fixed the problem. I sanitise my hands, say goodbye to the patient and head on over to the first patient on my list of rounds. Now that I’ve attended to one gentleman already, now is as good as time as any to begin tending to my first set of patients. Besides, the quicker I get my rounds done, the longer I’ll have to read more of the letter. I turn on my heel and head to bay 1. 

The ward is, of course, busy as always, and time tends to go slowly at the beginning of the day, yet I’m finished within an hour, with few problems, somewhat surprised that I was able to distract myself. Probably because I spent the majority of my round talking the agency nurse through every last detail...honestly, I probably would have been done sooner if I was doing hers and my job at the same time. I head on over to the nurses' station to collect some file notes on a few patients and the surgeries some of them will be having. Whilst I’m here, I take another glance at the now crumpled letter in my right-hand pocket not being able to resist the temptation any longer, and continue to read from where I had left off:

Since I’m going to be gone for a few weeks looking after Gran, I feel like now is a good opportunity to say the things I’m about to. Don’t worry, I’m obviously going to come and see you in between then, but for when you’re maybe feeling a little lonely on shift, you can read this and maybe it will feel as if I’m there like we’re having a conversation almost.

I smile slightly at Lofty wanting to see me and him wanting me to feel less lonely. Even when he’s not here, his nurse’s instincts are always on alert. My smile widens at this thought, and I continue:

Some of these things I may have mentioned briefly in the past, and others I have not. Some of them I shall never forget, both the good and the bad. But I hope in reading this, you, we, grow stronger together even if we aren’t physically in the same room, or ward, 24/7. However, if this all goes terribly, you can take my small hiatus as a breather, and wait until I’m back at work. I say this because you may think less of me after some of the things I’m about to tell you.

What I read from here on out can’t get that bad, surely? I couldn’t be driven away from him, could I? Does he think that I might bolt it? At this point, my smile begins to fade and fast.

Dom, I’m going to tell you about my 2 years in the ED…

My heart sinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope you enjoyed chapter 2! Any feedback is greatly appreciated! Until next week!


	3. Diggers

I don’t quite know how to react. However, I was going to react though is put on hold by a patient’s heart monitor going off. I am quick on my feet, almost too quick in fact. I end up knocking into the brick pillar just next to the nurses' station as I make my way over to the patient. I brush my arm off from the collision with the brickwork and assist Sacha (who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere) with Mrs. Crest’s tachycardia. As I do so, my hands begin shaking more than usual, not much but enough to suggest that my focus is not quite in top form. I try my best to steady myself, controlling my breathing, scrunching the hands, and every other ludicrous thing we get ourselves to do when we’re ever so slightly freaking out and we’re desperate for a cure. During my questionable actions to steady myself, Sacha nudges me from across the patient’s bed and tilts his head, his non-verbal way of asking if I’m ok, without placing any worry on the patient. I give a less than convincing nod and continue working, paying particular attention to hide any signs of feeling anything abnormal. 

Mrs. Crest was soon back into sinus rhythm and both Sacha and I were able to leave the patient’s bedside just as quickly as we had arrived. As I sanitise my hands and turn to walk back to the nurses station, I half expected Sacha to call me to his office, but to my surprise he let me go back to what I was doing, which unknowingly to him, was me halfway through figuring out how I should react to the little bombshell Lofty had left me. I think about messaging him right there and then saying that I was unable to read the letter because he shouldn’t be trusting me. I mean, I’ve messed up enough relationships with people I love in the past, so should I really be trusted now? Maybe I could make up another excuse that perhaps isn’t as bold, like its been swept into a pile of rubbish. 

Just as I think of my excuses, my eyes drift to my arm, the arm I scraped along the brickwork pillar. My once pristine appendage has now been marked with a messy graze. Whilst it didn’t quite catch enough skin to cause it to bleed, it did catch enough for the observant passer-by to notice. As crazy as it sounds, my one lapse of clumsiness reminds me of Lofty’s frequent encounters with door frames, windows, his own feet, as well as this same pillar that I’m sure I won’t forget about next time I walk past. I must have given a pretty big grin as I walk because an agency nurse looked at me with a responsive smile. I sheepishly nod in response, feeling a little awkward and continue walking, paying a little more attention to my surroundings.

As I reach the nurses' station, I realise that the letter isn’t there. I double check my pockets, and it's not there. Just when I’d thought I’d calmed myself down, I’m starting to panic again. Is it really in the bin...I mean I know I thought about it, but I would never want that to happen. What would Lofty think?! Before I have time to rationalise, I’m straight under the desk rummaging through the bin. I find a Snickers bar wrapper, a ball of sticky tape, a broken pen and a half eaten apple in amongst of many scrunched pieces of scrap paper. There is no way I’m going to un-scrunch each ball of paper, and with that decision, I crawl back out from under the desk, hitting the back of my head in the process. OUCH! As I rise to my feet, I notice a few odd looks coming from patients, but decide its best to shrug them off. 

From the corner of my eye, I see a white triangle lying on the floor. Low and behold, its the letter. I chuckle to myself as I realise that I must have dropped it when I’d walked into the brick pillar. I wonder how many more Lofty moments I’m going to have today. I chuckle once more, place the letter, a lot neater this time, into my pocket and continue to look through Mr. Jenkins’ notes and his upcoming surgery.

It's not until my break at 2:00 that I pull the letter out from my pocket again. I start to read it in the lift, which again, is unusually empty:

First, I should probably better explain where the heck my nickname ‘Lofty’ came from. Starting off with a gentle topic might help relax any of the nerves I may have created. I’m sure I’ve touched upon it but here is the full story…

*BING* *GROUND FLOOR* *LIFT OPEN*

The doors of the lift slide open and I make my way to Arthur’s memorial bench, my usual lunch spot when I’m on break alone.  
“So, how are we Diggers? I’ve got quite the topic of conversation today! Lofty’s left me a letter. He wants me to read it throughout this shift, so now is the time to get stuck in I guess.”  
I pause.  
“He says it's about his time in the ED, and between you and me, I’m a lot more nervous than I thought I’d be. Thank god he’s starting with the origin of his nickname!”  
I pause again to that I can open my tuna and sweetcorn baguette that I’d bought from pulses. I take a bite and continue talking to Arthur.  
“The name Lofty has always confused me, but its such a nice fit. Kinda cute really. Anyway, he says that I may think less of him after what I read, but for the time I’ve known him, I haven’t seen a single bad trait come from him. Do I think it’s possible to think anything but good of him?”  
As those words pass my lips, a voice, that I can only believe would be Arthur’s tells me that I should just continue reading the goddamn thing.   
“Alright, Diggers! Keep your wig on!”  
I imagine Digby giving one if his signature eye rolls. I let out a small laugh, shake my head, take another bite of my baguette and read more of the letter:

So, believe it or not, I used to be quite the party animal...I know...shocker!

Maybe that’s why he’s a more stay at home and get high on takeaway curries. I chuckle and continue to read:

As a result, my wild behaviour didn’t get me in my parent’s good books. As I spent more and more time out drinking in the evenings, my parents grew more and more impatient with me, and quite rightly so. Being the ignorant younger me that I was, of course, didn’t listen to my parents' warnings, and eventually, I got kicked out. Looking back I really don’t blame them for what they did, but I imagine that my behavior was a contributing factor to our lack of communication now, which borders on the verge of non-existent. 

I knew Lofty didn’t have much contact with his parents, but by the sounds of it, it definitely doesn’t sound like a recent occurrence. My smile drops a little as I become aware of the increasing seriousness of the tone in his letter:

I deserved it really, maybe I still do, [no you don’t Lofty, you made a mistake, hell I’ve made several in my life time] but with barely enough cash in my pocket to buy a cheese sandwich, I was forced to live on my friends’ sofas, but that quickly went awry when my friends started making something of themselves. So, still being the nobody with no home or job, I turned to ‘loft surfing’ in properties that my father owned. To this day, I’m not sure he knows about that. I’m not sure he knows much about any of my life considering I spent most of it living with Nan. Perhaps he still thinks of me as the same child that was branded a ‘waste of space’ from the age of 6 and onwards. 

I feel a lump form in my throat as I read. How could anyone think Lofty’s a waste of space? I had no idea that Lofty had such a complexed past. You would never guess it would you?:

Anyway, away from that little tangent, the ‘loft surfing’ was never ideal and meant a lot of sneaking around, and with my clumsiness, you can imagine how close I was to getting caught on many occasions. But one day, just that happened. I was caught, by my new friend, Robyn...I was just about to do the ironing too! 

Well, at least he always had his charm!:

The end of the story involved a rake and an oversized paramedic’s jacket, and ever since I’ve been known as Lofty. To be honest, it kind of annoyed me at first, but even I can’t deny that it has a good ring to it. 

Well, I’m very fond of it too!:

And that was the start of my time at the ED, fairly abrupt and unexpected, but I wouldn’t have changed it for the world. 

As my breaks usually go in this hospital, I am stopped from taking another bite from my baguette, and stopped from continuing my reading by my pager. Its nothing serious, so I decided to take my time. I smile and let out a small chuckle. I feel as if Arthur’s giving me the one-raised-eyebrow smirk...

‘Don’t look at me like that Diggers! I remember much more about you and Morven than you know!”

I stifle another laugh, touch Arthur’s plague, say goodbye and take my leave.

I quickly turn back round to face Diggers and say:

“If your still interested I’ll keep you updated...if not, well...I’ll let you know anyway”

Again, I imagine his signature eye roll and turn to face Wyvern wing entrance.

The last thought that pops into my head is Lofty wearing an oversized paramedic’s jacket. I wasn’t even aware that my smile bordered on the side of goofy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this long-awaited installment of this story! I made it a little longer than usual so I hope you enjoyed! As always feel free to leave some feedback! 
> 
> If you would like to see more Dofty and Holby, follow me on Instagram: @casualty_at_holby
> 
> Thank you for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my first ever Dofty fanfic! I hope to post the next chapter within the next week but I'm not promising anything because of school work.
> 
> If you want to see more Holby and Casualty from me as well as fanfic updates, be sure to follow me on Instagram @casualty_at_holby


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